Astrology
by chujelly
Summary: Gertrude Strife didn't like lying, but the ever-present chill of Bastogne changed her.


**Author's Note:** This is the beginning of a few one-shots centered around my original character, Gertrude Strife. Basically, I went through the dictionary and pulled out a word from each letter and used it to write short stories. I'm well aware that many stories dealing with OFC's in war can lead to dangerous Mary-Sue land, but I've striven hard not to make Gertrude perfect. I consider her my baby and any baby of mine would not be anywhere near perfect. :P I sincerely hope you enjoy. :)

**Astrology**

Gertrude lay half in the slit trench and half out of it, her legs hanging down beside Joe, who was fast asleep under his olive drab blanket. The woman had no idea how he could sleep with no shoes on in freezing temperatures. Most of the guys in the company had told him to get off the line, but he always said he was fine. To Gertrude's knowledge, Doc Roe was supposed to be getting him another pair of 9's, but he probably wouldn't be able to get them until the next time he was at the aid station, which would _also_ be when someone else got wounded and no one was wishing for _that_, so the whole situation was, basically put, fucked.

Gertrude shifted, though there was no relief from the snow-covered ground on her back. She knew she would kiss the earth whenever they got out of Bastogne. Or at least whenever they left the godforsaken Ardennes Forest and went somewhere not covered in snow.

Her green eyes scanned the heavens above, the stars just visible through a light covering of mist and low-hanging, brittle branches. She wondered how _anything_ survived out here in this frozen wasteland.

From beside her came the crunching of snow and the huffing of breath. As the person came closer, Gertrude tensed, even though she _knew_ it was just Malarkey coming back from taking a piss. That was one effect of this whole shitstorm of a war that Gertrude knew would never go away. If (_when, _she had to keep reminding herself, _when) _she got home, if anyone ever snuck up on her or made a loud noise, she would not be responsible for their injuries.

"…Malark?" Gertrude said softly, her fingers twitching to grab her rifle, which was laying beside Joe in the trench.

"Yeah, it's me." Through the mist, she saw Malarkey freeze with his hands still fastening his buckle. "Jesus, Gertrude, what're ya doin'?"

The woman looked back to the sky, her fingers relaxing back into the snow at her sides. "Just lookin'."

Crunchcrunchcrunch as Malarkey came to sit down beside her and then reached into the trench to get something. "At what?" His voice was muffled because his head was in the hole.

"The stars."

One long crunch as Malarkey leaned back and threw both his and Gertrude's blankets over them both, sidling up close to her. "Here." He knew how slow Gertrude's blood flowed in the cold (mostly because she complained about it 24/7), making it hard for her to move around a lot when she got tired, so he grabbed her shoulder opposite him and pulled her so she was lying on her side facing him. He then reached between them for her hands and began to rub them with his own. "The stars, huh?"

Gertrude nodded slowly and breathed out, their breaths mingling in puffs of makeshift smoke. Malarkey blinked at her, this strange girl who enlisted for the army and was actually accepted and sat out in below zero temperatures during a war in the snow and stared at the sky. If she wasn't so levelheaded in combat, Malarkey probably would have thought she wasn't quite right upstairs.

"My aunt practiced astrology," she told him, attempting to inch closer to him. "She taught me some stuff that Sobel didn't fuck the wrong way out of my memory."

Malarkey chuckled. Jokes about Captain Sobel and how much everyone hated him would never get old. Malarkey pressed himself fully up against Gertrude, saving her the pain (literally) of having to do it herself, their hands caught between them. He didn't say anything for a while, just lay staring at her closing her eyes, and her red nose and pale cheeks, whiter than a ghost. Or whatever Malarkey thought a ghost would look like, considering he didn't think he'd ever seen one.

After a few minutes, he spoke. "What do they say?"

"Hm?" Gertrude shook her head of messy, auburn hair and opened her eyes again so that Malarkey was half inclined to believe she'd fallen asleep.

"The stars. What do they say?"

Gertrude cast her eyes to the sky momentarily before fixing them on Malarkey again. "…they say we'll live."

Malarkey too glanced up, trying not to move too much. "Really?"

Gertrude nodded, a few wisps of her hair catching Malarkey on the tip of his nose. Normally the girl smelled like gunpowder and cigarettes and a slight hint of strawberries. Now, with his nose gone numb, Malarkey couldn't really smell anything.

"If the second and third stars of Orion's Belt are brighter than the others, it means safety."

Malarkey's eyebrows shot up into his hair. "Really?"

And Gertrude nodded once more before closing her eyes again. Malarkey sighed. "Well, that's reassuring." Gertrude was still awake when Malarkey half-carried, half-dragged her down into the trench and deposited her between himself and Joe, but she kept her eyes closed.

What Malarkey didn't know wouldn't hurt him.


End file.
